


Kidnapped and Captured

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Death, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Reunion, reference to suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns to 221b Bakerstreet after three years of hunting down Moriarty's web, only to discover a certain someone missing, kidnapped by one who was previously thought dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Years

It had been three years, three years since the consulting detective had set foot in 221b Bakerstreet, three years since he had been able to talk to his blogger, his companion, his John. Sherlock Holmes had finally done it though, he had finally taken down Moriarty’s web, he had finally taken everyone who was a threat out and could now return home, home to his John.

He had thought about how to tell John what he had been doing for three years and why it was necessary, he had taken into consideration the large chances of John punching him due to shock, fainting due to shock, or thinking that he was hallucinating. Sherlock had devised plans for each scenario; he wanted to make sure that John understood by the end of the night as to why he had to leave, why he had to die. Three snipers, three bullets, one for each of his friends, Moriarty’s second in command and rumoured lover, Sebastian Moran, was the one aiming at John, and the last one to die. Sherlock had almost enjoyed that death, taking revenge against him for threatening to kill John, but he didn’t because he thought of what John would have to say to that.

Well, he wasn’t a very nice man. Even still Sherlock could hear John’s voice, his guide to right and wrong, in his head. Obviously many times John’s voice didn’t help as he went about taking down the web, but it was there to keep him from going over the edge and torturing the criminals, his voice was there to keep Sherlock sane, to keep him looking forward to his goal, to seeing John.

Sherlock had had quite a lot of time to think about him and John, about feelings, and though he still mainly despised them he had realized up there on that roof that he had feelings for John. John, his guiding light, the one who taught him right and wrong, his friend, he diagnosed his feelings towards John as love, not sexual, just platonic, possibly romantic, but he knew that John would not be interested in romantic love with him, John was heterosexual.

Sherlock walked up the sidewalk on Bakerstreet, he entered 221b, he went up the fourteen steps to the shared flat. Not seeing John anywhere in the flat, or hearing him for that matter, he took a seat in his old chair, waiting for John to return home, so that he and Sherlock could talk.

Sherlock had been sitting in that chair for quite a few hours wondering where Mrs. Hudson was when his phone rang, it was Mycroft. He huffed and answered.

“What is it now, dearest brother?” He said with heavy sarcasm.

“You are at 221b, correct?” Mycroft responded, not answering his question.

“That is correct, now, it would be ever so kind of you to tell me where John has gone, because going by the information about his daily schedule he should have been home three hours and sixteen minutes ago,” the younger Holmes brother huffed.

“It appears he has had some difficulty with that, he got into a cab, which then led him not back to Bakerstreet but out of London.”

“Well then get me the address of where he was taken, Mycroft,” Sherlock spat out the name. “You told me that you had him under constant surveillance and protection, now it seems that has failed.”

“He was taken to a place you are rather familiar with, the abandoned warehouse, now you know what this mean Sh-” He was cut off before finishing his sentence.

“Yes I do.” He hung up and was out the door before Mycroft could advise him not to go in pursuit.


	2. Coping and a Cab Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is coping, not very well though, and one day after work he gets picked up by the wrong sort of cabbie.

John was coping; he was coping even after three years. He was dead, but no matter how hard John tried he could not seem to pound that into his head. His limp had returned, along with the nightmares, but this time he did not dream of the war, he dreamt of his best friend, the man he had loved without realizing, jumping off the roof of St. Bart’s. He still carried his gun everywhere, the chambers loaded, he told others that it was for protection, but in the end he knew the real reason why it went everywhere with him.

He had stopped seeing his therapist, and though he tried to move on he just couldn’t. In the end John stayed in 221b, though the memories were painful, they were his, and he couldn’t just up and leave Mrs. Hudson there all alone, she was like a mother to him. He had to get a different job though, he couldn’t work at St. Bart’s, he couldn’t see that spot on the ground where Sherlock had landed.

Everyone around him thought that he had moved on, that he had recovered, but that was only because John never let them see how broken on the inside he was. He had learned how to hide his pain, how to hide everything from everyone, so that they wouldn’t question him or pity him. Occasionally he would be recognized on the street as “That fake detective dude’s boyfriend” and though it shouldn’t hurt him so much, it did, and those people usually were quite lucky if they didn’t get punched, he had been taken in by Lestrade multiple times due to violence.

He hailed a cab to take him home from work, and gave the cabbie the address, reclining as he waited to arrive. After a while he noticed that the cab was not headed to 221b, but to an entirely different part of London, so he decided to tell the cabbie.

“Oi, mate, I said 221b Bakerstreet, this isn’t the way there.”

“I know it isn’t, you won’t be going there.” Said an eerily familiar voice, and John wondered where he had heard that voice before, it sounded so familiar.

“Well then where are you taking me?”

“A place that you might not find familiar, but your friend certainly will. Now would you be so kind as to shut up?” He said irritably.

John stayed quiet, though he had a strong desire to say something; he felt it best to think about what the man had been saying, and to figure out who this man was. Why did that voice sound so familiar? Frustrated, John contented himself to watching the city fly by outside the cab window, trying to figure out what was happening, the cabbie had locked his door, there was no phone signal, and the windows were tinted black, no way to get outside attention.


	3. Flashing Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened at that warehouse, what happened to Mary?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oOo denotes the flashback

Sherlock raced through London, towards the abandoned warehouse he remembered all too well, memories that he had stored in his mind palace were racing though his head, that place, everything that happened there six months ago…

oOo

Sherlock sat in waiting, in an abandoned warehouse, he had heard that a group of Moriarty’s men would be meeting here to discuss their move against the shadow that seemed to be killing them off, chipping away at the web now held by the leader Sebastian Moran. Sherlock was prepared to take them all down, the five of them that he knew were coming, he had backup, of course he did, but Mycroft’s men wouldn’t be here for a bit yet, still chasing after him through London as he went off on his own, again.

Suddenly the door opened, and it was not just five men, but fifteen, armed and ready to take him out. Sherlock quickly acted by tossing the knock out gas releasers at them, pulling a gasmask down over his face. When the gas had dissipated and all of the other men had been knocked out by it he went around, gathering them up and tying them to chairs, each had their own room in this abandoned warehouse, so that he could interrogate them.

After he had gotten all the information he could from these men, who had been stunned to see him alive, he left them to Mycroft’s team as he walked out of the warehouse. These men must have surely designed this as a trap, letting the information leak to Mycroft’s spies in order to lure him there.

One month later, he had found another spy, but this one had been put in place at 221b, and her name was Mary Morstan, put there as a romantic interest for John, as a failsafe. He quickly got all the information he could out of her, torturing her for it, he did not care whether or not it was nice, this woman was there to kill John should the need arise, and he would not forgive her for being a threat. He left her dead in the warehouse, to be found by the police days later, he had cleaned the area of all traces of him, though the police wouldn’t be looking for a dead guy to pin the murder on.


	4. Johnny-Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This mysterious man seems to be him, but that would be impossible, how could he be living?

John found himself being forced into an abandoned warehouse at gunpoint, hands tied behind his back and mouth gagged by the cabbie. He recognized this warehouse, before he was blindfolded, it was the one where the police had found his girlfriend of five months dead, she had been cut in many different places, shot a few times, stabbed in the gut, and burned in many places, particularly over her heart, there was no trace, no sign at all, of who could have killed her, but he had jokingly said to himself that Sherlock would have been able to figure out who killed her by looking at the burn patterns.

Damn he missed Sherlock, and that bloody git could really be some help right now, if he would just be done with this whole being dead thing. John still clung to hope when he knew that Sherlock was dead, somehow that idea just couldn’t stick with him, he dreamed about Sherlock bursting in, saying hello, and being his normal self, John wished he could go back to those days, and maybe say what he never had, what he should have.

He should have told Sherlock that he loved him, it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t romantic, he loved the man, they were platonic at least, but he knew that Sherlock would never have felt the same way, Sherlock the High-Functioning Sociopath, the man without feelings, usually.

John found himself being tied to a chair, gag being removed, and by the footsteps he could tell that his captor was pacing.

“So, are you going to tell me who you are yet?” John inquired.

“Where’s the fun in that, Johnny-boy? No, no, no, you have to guess!”

Why did that voice sound so familiar, it was attached to something very bad, he could remember that, but who was it? An eerie silence filled the space as John found himself gagged again, silence only broken by the pacing of the other man.

Suddenly the pacing stopped, and the footsteps moved to look out the window. It had been a few hours John figured.

The man chuckled “Your friend seems to have arrived, he’ll have to get past my security, they are brute but boring, though I guess that was rather the point, much easier to dispose of.”

John realized who this man sounded like, but no, that wasn’t possible, the man known as Jim Moriarty had died on that roof with Sherlock.


	5. You're Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has no patience to deal with people in his way today.

Sherlock exited the cab he had needed to hail to get to the warehouse quickly, and stormed up to the door, knowing that there would be security but not caring. When he reached the two brutes he shot them, not having any time to play the game with them. He forced open the door and found himself face to face with an eerily familiar face, yet not the same man at all.

“Hello Jim.”

“You are late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, very short I know, sorry, but since this is going up all at once I don't think there will be too much complaint in the waiting field.


	6. Staying Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John hears gunshots and a confrontation takes place, but how could these men be alive?

John heard gunshots, John heard the door being forced open, and then John heard a voice he thought he would never hear again. That voice addressed his captor as Jim, how was another question, this was all so impossible.

He was unable to say anything as he heard the exchange go on, he was still blindfolded as well, unable to look and see if this man with Sherlock’s voice was real.

“You have someone that I want back.”

“You have three years of life that you should not have had.”

“You wouldn’t want to die like your twin did now would you Jim? I know all about that little switch you did, letting your brother die to keep up the act.”

“Goood, how did you figure it out?”

“Your hair, it had obviously been dyed twice recently, first from black to a light blond for a casting roll, but then when called upon your brother Richard Brook, original name James Moriarty, tried to re-dye his hair to match yours better, but the roots were the telltale signs.” This John clearly recognized as Sherlock’s skill, this couldn’t be faked.

“Now, tell me this, how did you survive? I watched you fall, the great SHERLOCK HOLMES, suicide of the FAKE DETECTIVE, and yet here you are, staying alive.”

“You know how.”

“Then tell me how for the AUDIENCE, I am sure that he is just dying to know.”

He could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him, and waited for the explanation to come, but it didn’t.

“Sadly I rather think that I will not give you the chance to confirm or deny your explanation, instead I would rather the final problem end here.”

“And how are you going to do that, is daddy going to storm in here guns blazing? I think not.” Honestly John thought, this man had the worst sense of humor ever.

“No, only me, you have no more snipers, the last of your brute team was just killed, you are defenseless, and check who is holding the gun.” John can only assume that Sherlock has pulled a gun on Moriarty at this point.


	7. Just a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is having none of Moriarty's bullshit speaking today, but what happens after John is let loose?

Sherlock pulled a gun, pointing it at Moriarty.

“Shoot me? I was hoping you would go for something a bit more fun, ah well, this will all be over soon Sher-” as Moriarty reached for his own gun Sherlock shot, hitting Moriarty’s head, killing him instantaneously.

He rushed over to John, quickly untying him, removing the gag and blindfold.

“John, are you okay? Did Moriarty do anything to you?” John first saw Sherlock, usually the mask of emotionlessness, looking worried, or as worried as he could look. John had seen this one other time, at the pool-side, and he was pleased that he could still read Sherlock’s feelings no matter how hard Sherlock denied them.

“No, no, I am fine, I’m fine.” As soon as John’s hands were free and he had recovered a bit though, Sherlock was (un)surprised to find John’s fist hitting his face. “THREE BLOODY YEARS SHERLOCK, THREE BLOODY YEARS AND YOU DIDN’T ONCE THINK TO POP IN AND SAY “HELLO JOHN, OH, I AM NOT DEAD BY THE WAY!”” And then John did something that actually utterly surprised Sherlock. John kissed him.

Sherlock pulled back quickly, utter surprised and astonished at John’s reaction.

John managed to mutter an apology. “Oh, uh, sorry there, you must, uh, sorry, uh Sher-” but was then cut off by Sherlock pulling him closer and kissing back, surprising John.

When they break apart John stares at Sherlock, who after a while of silence says “I think you should stop denying that you are gay.”

“I am not exactly gay…just, Sherlock-sexual I guess,” To which Sherlock chuckles.

“I do owe you an explanation, so I will start from the beginning. Moriarty had three gunmen, three snipers, aimed at you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade, if they did not see me jump, did not see me die, they would shoot. I however predicted this, though played into Moriarty’s trap, I knew the time the laundry truck came around, and stalled enough for it to be positioned underneath me, so that when I jumped I would be able to land in there. The call to you was to try and help you move on, though I can see that that did not quite work now. The biker that crashed into you was part of the homeless network, meant to buy me time so that I could jump out of the truck and position myself on the sidewalk. I used bloodbags to make the scene look bloody, and a rubber bouncy ball tucked under my arm to hide my pulse. The crowd around me also helped to set up my “death” because if you did not believe I was dead you would be shot. Molly faked the death certificate for me. For the past three years I have been hunting down Moriarty’s web, taking out everyone, severing the lines. They found out soon enough and put the snipers back on, but the threat was that if I was seen to be alive by any of you they would shoot. Your girlfriend Mary was also involved in this; she was a failsafe in case the snipers failed. I thought that I had taken down the web, but obviously not, Moriarty was the last one left, it is gone now.”

John sat there in silence for a moment, taking in all of this, still stunned, but finally spoke. “So you jumped off that building to save three people’s lives when you put your own at risk? No matter what people say about you, you do have a heart, and that plan of yours was bloody brilliant. You still deserved that punch though.”

“I expected the punch, just not the kiss.” Sherlock smiled at John, and John smiled back, blushing a bit.

“We should probably be careful when we see Mrs. Hudson, she will have an awful fright seeing you again.”

“Yes well, one does not usually see the dead walking every day.”

Sherlock helped John up, and they walked out to hail a cab, talking about how each person will react to seeing Sherlock again, and about how Mycroft did all this work to clear Sherlock’s name. They talked about the ground rules for dating (cases do not count as dates), and they talked of what each had been doing in the three years separation.


End file.
